


the strength of the wolf

by kyrilu



Category: Alex Rider (TV 2020)
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24629776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/kyrilu
Summary: On the helicopter ride back from Point Blanc.
Relationships: Alex Rider/Wolf
Comments: 16
Kudos: 84





	the strength of the wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the Alex Rider (TV) series up to the seventh episode. ~~I'll remove the book tag once the tag (hopefully) gets properly wrangled.~~

Alex Rider has a faraway look in his eyes. There are still snowflakes on his eyelashes -- his cheeks flushed from the cold wind -- and he barely seems to register the whir of the helicopter blades in the background, intermingled with the sound of the engines.

They’re in this aircraft: Snake at the controls; Fox beside her; while Wolf and Alex are sitting in the passenger hold, boxes of equipment and papers nicked from Point Blanc in front of them. The others -- Eagle, Mrs. Jones, Greif, the liberated students, and the clones, accompanied with back-up security sent from the DGSE -- are in the second aircraft that had left several hours earlier while they had finished clean-up.

Wolf’s never been a talkative fellow, but it’s a bit unnerving, Alex’s quietness and stillness. Of course, this kid’s been unnerving since the start.

He clears his throat. “You lost your pack in the explosion down there, right? If you want an ORP, we’ve got some to spare.” He hadn’t seen Alex stopping to take a break after they’d secured Point Blanc -- instead, Alex had pointed out the academy’s offices and labs to K-Unit, helping them gather data to bring back to London.

Alex shrugs. “Maybe later. Thanks.”

“I guess rations are an acquired taste,” Wolf says, with a twitch of a smile. “You’re hoping to eat airport food instead, Cub?” In an hour or two, they’ll need to refuel before finally reaching London.

This time, the distance in Alex’s eyes appears to shrink. Blue clearing up. “I can stomach rations. I’ve always gone camping with--” He pauses, and Wolf hears what’s almost said -- the kid’s uncle, the Ian Rider that Wolf had questioned him about.

“I’ve gone camping all the time,” Alex amends, simply. 

Wolf nods his head, and they lapse into silence again. Alex stares out the window, his breath making clouds against glass. 

“It helped, you know,” Alex says, apropos of nothing. He looks surprised that he said it, but he continues on. “Before, you said that you were about to stop the -- interrogation. But later on, when Greif and Stellenbosch questioned me, I didn’t talk. I just remembered the music and the water. All of it.” 

That. Right.

(Alex Rider is sixteen, and he tells his supposed captors to shoot him. Water-drenched, ears ringing, blood on his face drying scarlet, daring danger with every movement and every glare.) 

Wolf says, wry, “You never forget your first. But that was all you, Alex.” 

“My first.” Alex lets out a short laugh. “Yeah, well, it bought me time, anyway. Kyra got me out.” He pauses. “Does that mean you had a first, too? Resistance training--?” 

“Do you really want to know the other things we could’ve done to you?”

“... Not really.” 

“Exactly.” Wolf smiles -- it’s not a nice smile; it’s his interrogator’s smile, sharp as a knife -- and Alex shifts in his seat, the emergency blanket that Wolf had drawn around him crinkling, dislodged. 

Wolf reaches out to fix it. He tucks the blanket around Alex’s jacket, patting and smoothing, before he pulls his hands back. Alex lets him; his eyes blue bright and focused, the line of his throat bobbing, and, upon closer inspection, snowflakes shining in his blond hair like a crown. 

Alex says, snorting, “You’re more like a Papa Bear than a Wolf.” 

Wolf retorts, “Hell no.” Reflexively, he glances at Snake and Fox to ensure they hadn’t overheard -- they hadn’t, not with the sound of the chopper and Snake wearing the headset -- and Alex catches him looking and grins. 

“I won’t tell.” 

“There’s nothing to tell.” 

Alex begins humming a familiar tune -- _I swear to God; I’ve seen it all, nothing shocks me anymore after tonight_ \-- and Wolf sighs. Annoying kid.

Alex gets tired of humming after a while, and he drops to sleep, the melody trailing off. His eyelids flutter, and his breath comes out slow and steady. Wolf’s not surprised -- the kid looks like shit and probably feels like it -- and now’s as good a time as any to get some shut-eye.

Wolf thinks of the distance he’d seen in Alex’s eyes. He’s seen it in the mirror; he’s seen it from his unit; and he should not be seeing it from Alex Rider. 

Things have changed. Life won’t be the same. You know how to fight for real -- not just training, not just mock combat -- but how to fight to survive _._ You know how to resist pain and hold onto secrets, chained to a chair and singing in the dark. And you know to listen to orders, to take assignments from higher-ups, who ask and ask of you: _Save the day. Do this for your country._

Wolf was about to stop, back then. And Alex had endured Greif and his henchwoman’s interrogation, and they’d stopped, too, shocked by his resistance. Wolf finds himself wondering what might happen, the next time Alex is in a situation where he won’t be so lucky. A time when his enemies won’t stop. Is he the type of boy who will keep singing? 

\-- He’s heading home, Wolf reminds himself. He’ll go back to his ordinary civilian life, and Wolf won’t have to think about smug little schoolboy spy brats who stare down torture and death.

Through the window, he watches the clouds, billowing and storm-imminent over the mountains. He adjusts the thermal blanket around Alex again, and then, eventually, he finds himself lightly drowsing, the state of a soldier’s muted alertness, before the helicopter touches ground and the storm breaks out. 

* * *

As the helicopter descends, Alex’s head ends up half-slumping against Wolf’s shoulder, and Wolf nudges him aside so his head lolls against the window instead. Fox sees them and laughs, and Wolf shoots him a glare, and Jesus, he’s not going to hear the end of this, is he? 


End file.
